


Of Quail Eggs and Lotus

by deanlockiradall



Category: Founder of Diabolism, Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Mo Dao Zu Shi, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chinese New Year, Fluff and Angst, Food, M/M, MDZS - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Side Story, contains minor spoilers to chapter 76, hot pot, spring festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanlockiradall/pseuds/deanlockiradall
Summary: It's almost Spring Festival and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are summoned to take care of some vicious corpses. Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, and Jin Ling tag along. Food and holiday celebrations follow, with a dash of nostalgia.





	Of Quail Eggs and Lotus

 

A frigid gust of wind sliced through the many layers of warm winter clothes in which Wei Wuxian was currently bundled. He shivered, but when Jin Ling glowered in his direction, he did his best to pretend that his teeth weren’t chattering from the cold. As Jin Ling’s senior, Wei Wuxian had to set a proper example. 

Still, Lotus Pier was far enough south that winters didn’t get this cold, and Wei Wuxian wasn’t accustomed to the freezing weather of the northern regions. He tucked his chin farther into his fur-lined hood and considered burning one of his talismans for an extra bit of heat.

Several faint crunches of snow sounded behind him. He turned to see that Lan Wangji, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Jingyi had returned from their scouting mission in the nearby town. The contents of Wei Wuxian’s dark sleeves rattled softly as he moved. “Any news?” he asked. 

Sizhui nodded, as he and the others sheathed their swords. Their dark hair stood out in contrast to the winter landscape behind them, while their pale clothes seemed to blend into the background. “It seems that the new reports were false alarms. All the vicious corpses have been trapped in the cave that Fairy is currently guarding.” 

At the mention of his dog, Jin Ling huffed, exhaling a puff of steam that drifted past the Sparks Amidst Snow peony emblazoned on his bright yellow clothes. He hadn’t been happy that he’d had to stay behind with Wei Wuxian while the others had gone off to ask for information, and had been even more unhappy when he was told he and Wei Wuxian would be keeping quite a distance from the cave of corpses (and therefore Fairy) until the others returned. He’d obeyed, but had remained sullen and silent the whole time he and Wei Wuxian had searched the nearby forest for more monsters. 

The plan had been to lure as many corpses into the cave as possible so that they could be taken care of all at once, with one to two arrays, rather than repeatedly expend needless energy hunting them down individually in unfamiliar terrain. Truthfully, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were more than capable of taking care of the corpses on their own, but it had been decided that the boys could use some extra hunting practice, and so had been brought along to be observed and supervised. 

Another gust of wind hissed through the trees, bringing with it the faint sound of a dog’s bark. Wei Wuxian suppressed a shudder at both the cold and the canine, and clapped his hands together. “Alright then. Let’s take care of these corpses and then get something to eat!”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed. The five of them set off for the cave, Wei Wuxian finding some excuse to hang back the closer they came to the dog. If the Lan boys noticed Wei Wuxian surreptitiously sidling behind Lan Wangji as Fairy came into view, they tactfully didn’t say anything, though Jin Ling let out a soft snort of derision.

 

*

 

By the time they had taken care of the corpses and returned to the nearby town where the Lan cultivators had gone looking for information, Wei Wuxian was starving. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, let’s eat!” he said, eyeing each food stall eagerly. 

“Mn.” But each time, Lan Wangji continued past the restaurants in question. 

Spring Festival was almost upon them, and the town was already bedecked with red lanterns, firecrackers, upside-down characters to bring good fortune, and New Year’s couplets at each doorway. Everywhere the cultivators walked, they passed townspeople bustling around preparing for the New Year’s feasts and celebrations. 

As they passed by a house with some particularly excited children running around and getting underfoot as the adults cleaned and cooked, Wei Wuxian was suddenly reminded of the many Spring Festivals he’d celebrated at Lotus Pier—he and Jiang Cheng had been scolded many times for pranks and avoiding preparation duties (mostly, it should be admitted, because of Wei Wuxian’s mischief), but Jiang Yanli had always snuck them bits of the food she’d helped to cook, and Madam Yu and former Sect Leader Jiang Fengmian had made efforts not to argue as much during the holidays. 

Wei Wuxian’s stomach clenched and he looked away, smile fading for a moment. Of course, all those happy times were gone now. Jiang Cheng was sect leader, and his parents and sister were dead. Wei Wuxian glanced at Jin Ling, far ahead of him with Fairy, Sizhui, and Jingyi. Jin Ling hadn’t even been able to celebrate his first Spring Festival with his parents, all because of Wei Wuxian.

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian wasn’t hungry anymore. He shifted his gaze to a nearby papercut decoration on a storefront, commemorating the zodiac animal of the coming year. The scarlet dog seemed to snarl at him reproachfully. 

Distracted as he was by his thoughts, Wei Wuxian hadn’t noticed that Lan Wangji had stopped. In fact, Wei Wuxian would have walked right past him, had Lan Wangji not called him back. “Here.” 

Wei Wuxian blinked. They were standing outside a bustling hot pot restaurant, from which deliciously tantalizing scents were drifting. Wei Wuxian’s stomach gave up its guilt traitorously quickly and growled.

An answering whine came from nearby. Wei Wuxian jumped as he realized Fairy had been left outside the building. 

“The others are inside,” Lan Wangji explained, his face carefully blank. 

Wei Wuxian was only too eager to follow suit, his cries of “Hot pot! Hot pot!” sounding suspiciously like “Ahhh, dog!” 

They found the disciples already seated around a pot of bubbling broth, waiting for their plates of ingredients. Jingyi looked up as the senior cultivators approached. “Er, we requested a separate hot pot for you,” he said quickly, “since Han Guang-Jun and Senior Wei have different tastes.” The real reason was because Wei Wuxian was likely going to order an extremely spicy broth that only he could tolerate, and only Lan Wangji would be willing to put up with. Also, no one wanted to interrupt in case the two of them had one of their ‘moments’ again, which were liable to occur at any time. 

Wei Wuxian, for his part, saw Jin Ling glowering again, and tried to quell the tendril of guilt rising up in him once more. “Ah, that was thoughtful of you,” he said instead, and made his escape to the other table that Jingyi had indicated. 

Lan Wangji had remained silent throughout this exchange, so Wei Wuxian felt obliged to talk and break the silence. “Oh, it looks like they have split hot pots here,” he said, observing other customers’ tables, in one of his rarer moments of dietary memory. “That’s good—we can get different broths, since you don’t really eat spicy food. Oh, and I should treat you this time, since the last few times we ate together you ended up paying, enough though I said I’d pay….” 

Lan Wangji nodded, and seemed to be content to let Wei Wuxian ramble on and order for both of them. He did, indeed, order the split-broth hot pot, deathly spicy for himself and a medicinal broth for Lan Wangji. The more Wei Wuxian talked and thought about food, the hungrier he became, so he ordered several plates of meat and fish for himself, and vegetables and tofu for Lan Wangji, and of course, a jar of the restaurants’ finest alcohol to accompany the meal. 

“Won’t you have a drink with me, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian coaxed, several helpings of food and rice wine later. “It’s Spring Festival! Come on, you should have at least one.” He seemed to have conveniently forgotten the dangers of a drunk Lan Wangji. 

“Alcohol is forbidden—” 

“—in the Cloud Recesses, yes,” Wei Wuxian finished for him, “but we’re not in Gusu right now, and this rice wine is almost as good as Emperor’s Smile.” He downed the rest of his cup and grinned, his normal mischievous cheer seeming to have returned with the consumption of food and alcohol. Even the year of the dog decorations couldn’t bring him down. “Lan Zhan, come on, let’s celebrate a little.” 

But Lan Wangji just served himself another helping of tofu and winter bamboo, leaving Wei Wuxian to pour another cup of wine for himself. 

“Oh, fine…” Wei Wuxian let it go for the moment, then called for a server to bring a plate of quail eggs for the hot pot. Another wave of nostalgia hit him. “And some lotus roots too, if you have any,” he added. 

Lan Wangji looked up at him when he said that, but didn’t pry. He could guess well enough where Wei Wuxian’s thoughts had gone. 

For his part, Wei Wuxian took another swallow of rice wine to shake himself out of it and wouldn’t let himself look again at Jin Ling. “Hey, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he said, injecting some extra cheer in his voice, “you have so many rules in the Cloud Recesses—how do you celebrate the Spring Festival?” He half-expected Lan Wangji to tell him off with a “Talking is not permitted while eating,” but to his surprise, the other cultivator swallowed his bite of tofu, then gracefully set down his bowl and chopsticks. 

“We clean our homes and purify ourselves,” Lan Wangji said. “We have special meditations that we do every morning and rituals to cleanse our sect lands of residual negative energy.” 

Wei Wuxian expected as much, and rolled his eyes inwardly at how stuffy it all sounded. The conversation paused as a dish containing about a dozen small quail eggs arrived, and Wei Wuxian split them equally between the two broths. 

“But Spring Festival is also the one time of year where our rules are…more lenient than usual,” Lan Wangji continued after the empty egg plate had been set aside. 

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. “So, you only have to follow two thousand rules instead of four thousand?” he joked.

If Lan Wangji was amused or irritated, he didn’t show it. “We gather with our clan members and feast,” he said, as if Wei Wuxian hadn’t spoken. “And we are allowed to stay up until eleven during Spring Festival days.” 

Wei Wuxian, who usually didn’t sleep until at least one in the morning, laughed. “I bet you still went to sleep at nine and woke up at five.” 

Lan Wangji opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Wei Wuxian stirred the contents of his spicy broth. 

“The quail eggs should be done,” he exclaimed. “Lan Zhan, you should have some too!” But a few moments later, his excitement turned to puzzlement. Even though he was certain that he’d put at least six eggs into his broth, they all seemed to have vanished. “Where did they go?” 

He fished around in the broth some more, but only came up with some mutton, a wayward piece of taro, and some cabbage, all dyed a brilliant vermilion. He spooned them into his bowl; he might as well eat what he’d found in the meantime. 

A burst of noise interrupted his search. He looked over at the disciples’ table. Jin Ling and Jingyi were bickering about something again. Jin Ling was waving his chopsticks emphatically, the wood-ear mushroom held between them dangerously close to becoming a projectile. Jingyi responded in kind, gesturing with his own chopsticks as he exclaimed, “And that’s why the turtle was right!” before Sizhui quietly scolded him about remembering his GusuLan sect restraint. 

“It’s Spring Festival!” Jingyi protested, though he did set his chopsticks down. 

“Yes, but just because the rules are more lenient doesn’t mean they can be broken entirely.” Sizhui, as always, remained unruffled, a miniature Han Guang-Jun. 

Wei Wuxian stifled a laugh, then froze, eyes wide, with his wine cup poised at his lips. Jin Ling was _smiling_. Well, all right, Jin Ling never really smiled, but the look on his face was the closest Wei Wuxian had ever seen him come to expressing joy. It seemed that even Jiang Cheng’s bitterness couldn’t completely stamp out Jin Ling’s own youthfulness. The softening of the boy’s face also brought out the resemblance to his mother, usually hidden by the sour visage more akin to his father and uncle. 

Then Jin Ling glanced up, saw Wei Wuxian looking, and the moment was broken. Jin Ling’s customary scowl was back and he turned away to irritably serve himself a piece of fish from the boys’ hot pot. 

Wei Wuxian sighed and turned his attention back to his own table, where a waiter was apologizing that unfortunately, they had no lotus to serve here, as the climate was too cold to grow them easily. “It’s fine,” Wei Wuxian said, hiding his disappointment. At least he still had his quail eggs…if he could ever find them. 

To his surprise, however, this time when he drew the ladle through his broth, he scooped up three of the tiny eggs in one go. What magic was this? He looked at the eggs quizzically, but accepted their appearance as a trick of fate and ate them. They were the perfect combination of chewy and savory, and each one burst in his mouth with a pleasant combination of burning hotness and dry flavor. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you should definitely try one!” he exclaimed, holding out his ladle with a spicy quail egg cupped inside it. All thoughts of Lan Wangji’s inability to eat spicy foods flew from his mind after the deliciousness of the eggs. “They’re really good!” 

Lan Wangji lifted his bowl and let Wei Wuxian drop the egg inside, then picked up his chopsticks and ate it in one fluid motion. “…Tastes good.” Perhaps it was a trick of the steam from the hot pot, but Lan Wangji’s voice seemed slightly hoarser than usual. Wei Wuxian, however, thought nothing of it as he returned to his search for more quail eggs in his broth. 

He scooped up three more and happily devoured them. The first two were just as flavorful and spicy as the others, but the third was different, seasoned with some sort of extra flavor that was mostly masked by the fiery seasonings of the broth. Wei Wuxian pondered it for a moment, but couldn’t place the odd taste. Oh well; it was still delicious, so he didn’t mind.

Across the table, Lan Wangji was munching on an egg from his own medicinal broth and seemed rather intent on the contents of his bowl. 

Wei Wuxian didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss when he found another quail egg in his broth, though it did seem to have a similar tang to the previous one. It wasn’t until he found a third egg, and then a fourth, that he began to recognize the odd flavor as something herbal. “Lan Zhan, do some of these eggs taste different to you?” he asked. “The taste is good, just…different.” 

Lan Wangji took another egg from his bowl and ate it, then drank some plain broth to indicate that he was finished with his meal. “Tastes normal,” he said at last. 

_Hmmm…_ “Maybe it’s just me, then.” Wei Wuxian shrugged. He slurped from his own bowl of broth, stomach happily bulging from the feast. On the table beside their hot pot, several stacks of plates attested to how well the cultivators had stuffed themselves. 

Wei Wuxian poured another drink into his cup. “Are you sure you won’t have even one drink with me?” he asked again, holding out the jar. “I’ll pour it for you—and I won’t tell anyone you drank alcohol.” He grinned and winked. 

Lan Wangji shook his head. Wei Wuxian shrugged again, good-naturedly. “Ah well, more for me, then,” he said, and quickly polished off the rest. As strong as his alcohol tolerance was, he barely felt tipsy. 

He glanced over at the disciples’ table again. They, too, seemed to be finished with their meal, and were pulling out money to pay. Wei Wuxian recalled that he’d said he would treat Lan Wangji this time for sure, but when he felt for his coin purse, he came up with nothing. 

“Ah, Lan Zhan, er…” He trailed off sheepishly. “I really will next time, I swear!”

“It is fine.” Lan Wangji reached for his coins.

 

*

 

After dinner, the boys went off with Fairy to explore the town and continue the night’s celebrations, though Sizhui and Jingyi promised to return in time for their curfew. 

As it was approaching nine o’clock, Lan Wangji elected to retire to the rooms they had rented for the night before the return journey to Gusu the next morning. Wei Wuxian, tired of dealing with dogs all day, decided to follow him instead of joining the Spring Festival revelry, though he did snag a few more jars of rice wine to drink in the room. Even if he wasn’t going out, there was no reason not to continue celebrating the new year indoors. 

As they passed the boys’ room, however, Wei Wuxian paused. “Lan Zhan, you go on ahead. I’ll be right there.” 

Lan Wangji nodded and continued on, his white clothes seeming to glow in the dim light of the narrow hallway. 

Wei Wuxian ducked into the boys’ room. He emerged a few moments later, sleeves lighter and quieter than before. 

When he entered the room he shared with Lan Wangji, he shivered at the sudden chill in the air, then realized that Lan Wangji had opened the windows, despite the freezing winter weather. Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to ask why on earth Lan Wangji had done such a thing, then saw the brilliantly full moon in perfectly framed view through the window. Lan Wangji sat before it, eyes closed, body still in his cleansing meditation. The moonlight gleamed on his forehead ribbon, and made the outlines of his clothes seem almost luminescent in the dark room. 

Wei Wuxian quietly closed the door behind him, then sat down at the low table and waited for Lan Wangji to finish his ritual, before joining him at the window, wine jar and cup in hand. “It’s Spring Festival and no one else is here,” he said. “You really won’t have even a sip?” He grinned. “Surely a sip is acceptable with your lenient rules.” 

Lan Wangji regarded the cup for a moment. The transparent rice wine within glinted like liquid moonlight. Finally, he accepted the cup and took a small sip, his lips barely disturbing the surface of the drink. 

Wei Wuxian’s grin widened. “Isn’t it good?” 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji handed the cup back to him, then turned to face the moon. 

Wei Wuxian considered the cup for a moment, then shrugged and downed the rest. If he noticed Lan Wangji’s slightly widened eyes at the gesture, he gave no sign, merely poured himself another drink and contemplated the moon’s reflection in it. 

“My first Spring Festival at Lotus Pier,” he began, “Jiang Cheng still didn’t like me. He’d had to get rid of his dogs when I arrived, and he was still angry about it. He wanted nothing to do with me then.” Wei Wuxian smiled sadly. “ _Shijie_ found me sitting alone in a corner before the feast, watching the other children lighting fireworks and playing. I wanted to join them, but they were Jiang Cheng’s friends. _Shijie_ tried to encourage me to go over there anyway, but I couldn’t do it. So she showed me how to sneak into the kitchens for extra sweets, and we went to the garden and set off fireworks together.” 

He paused, took a sip of wine. Lan Wangji was silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“The year after that, Jiang Cheng and I were friends, though he scolded me more than his mother did.” Wei Wuxian grinned. “Still, he went along with my games. We convinced some of the lion dancers to switch with us and danced close to the sweets tables, then swiped all of them. By the time anyone realized what had happened, we were long gone to the pier and ate so many that we got sick.” Madam Yu hadn’t let Jiang Yanli make herbal tea to soothe their aching stomachs. _Let them suffer_ , she had said. _They brought it upon themselves._ “The lotus paste sweets were always my favorite,” Wei Wuxian mused. “To me, they’re what happiness tastes like.” 

A warm weight settled on his shoulder. Surprised, Wei Wuxian looked down to see Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon centimeters from his nose. The cultivator’s eyes were closed, his breathing even and deep. 

_Really?_ Wei Wuxian wanted to say. _Even such a small amount of alcohol can put you to sleep like this?_ But he kept quiet, put down his cup and wine jar, and adjusted his position so that Lan Wangji’s head was more securely balanced on his shoulder. _He won’t remember this when he wakes up,_ Wei Wuxian rationalized. _And it’s cold out, so we’re just conserving body heat. That’s all._  

They sat like that for a while, Wei Wuxian gazing at the moon and listening to the commotion of New Years’ festivities while Lan Wangji slept. Gradually, though, something tugged at Wei Wuxian’s mind. A faint herbal taste, barely noticeable under the masking flavors of intense spiciness. 

Wei Wuxian frowned, breathing in as Lan Wangji breathed out. There! That same herbal flavor, but clearer than the impression in Wei Wuxian’s memory. It was the scent of the medicinal broth in Lan Wangji’s hot pot! But wait… Wei Wuxian had taken quail eggs only from his own spicy broth. He scanned his memory, recalling details he’d previously skimmed over. 

He had only seen Lan Wangji eat two eggs (three, if he counted the spicy one Wei Wuxian had thoughtlessly offered to Lan Wangji). Four of the eggs in Wei Wuxian’s broth had been flavored with the medicinal broth. Wei Wuxian was certain that he’d divided the eggs up evenly in both broths, so there should have been six each, but he had definitely eaten nine. And there had been that span of time when Wei Wuxian had been distracted by the disciples…. As he realized what had happened, Wei Wuxian looked down at the sleeping face beside him. “Lan Zhan, you really—” 

But before he could finish, a bright, whistling light flew through his peripheral vision. The firework exploded a second later, jolting Lan Wangji upright and dyeing him faint shades of blue, red, and gold. Several more followed, each as loud as the last. A celebratory clamor rose from the streets as the Year of the Dog barreled its way in. 

“Happy New Year,” Wei Wuxian said, grinning in open amusement at Lan Wangji’s startled expression. It was so rare to see him ruffled like this—Wei Wuxian was going to appreciate this moment to its fullest. 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji seemed to collect himself, his usual restrained expression closing off his face. “Happy New Year.” To Wei Wuxian’s mild disappointment, Lan Wangji didn’t seem drunk, or even tipsy; perhaps even he was immune to a mere sip of alcohol. Well…it had put him to sleep briefly. That was something, at least. 

Shortly afterward, there was a hesitant knock on the door. The two of them stood and went to answer it.

Sizhui, Jingyi, and a very reluctant Jin Ling stood in the hallway. 

“We apologize for the intrusion at this late hour,” Sizhui said, “but we wanted to inform you of our return and give our new year’s greetings to our seniors.” 

In unison, Sizhui and Jingyi bowed respectfully. “May the new year bring you both health, wealth, and good fortune.” 

Jin Ling, on the other hand, hadn’t moved. In fact, his expression was tense, as if torn between two opposing thoughts. Given Wei Wuxian’s presence, perhaps this wasn’t so surprising. 

Sizhui glanced back at him. _We discussed this_ , he seemed to say. 

Reluctantly, stiffly, Jin Ling gave the barest bow he could manage while still being passably respectful. “Happy New Year,” he mumbled, but couldn’t bring himself to say more than that. Wei Wuxian didn’t blame him, but was surprised when Jin Ling reached into his yellow sleeve, pulled out a small package, and offered it to him, albeit with as little grace as he could manage. 

“Thank you.” Wei Wuxian accepted it, but waited to open it until later. 

“Thank you for the amulets.” Jingyi spoke, in a somewhat rare moment of perfectly polite decorum. “We found them in our room when we returned.” 

Lan Wangji glanced at Wei Wuxian, who hid a smile. He’d crafted those amulets himself, designed to protect against even the strongest of evil spirits that these boys would likely have to face. Sizhui’s and Jingyi’s were simple but elegant, designed to fit with their GusuLan sect’s jade pendants. Jin Ling’s was a near perfect replica of the one Wei Wuxian had intended to give him as an infant those fifteen years ago—a translucent jade pendant with a tassel and a silver bell embossed with the lotus crest of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. 

Wei Wuxian would have given protective amulets to all three boys in any case, but he also thought that this way, Jin Ling would have an easier time accepting a gift from him. He would have an excuse for his uncle, should Jiang Cheng question him. _It wasn’t just me, Uncle. The others received amulets too, and I couldn’t refuse without losing face, even though it was from_ him.

Wei Wuxian inclined his head. _May it serve you well._  

The boys left soon after, at the reminder that eleven o’clock was almost upon them. 

After they’d gone, Wei Wuxian went to the open window and held the package under the moonlight. It fit in the palm of his hand. The paper wrapping was crumpled, as if it had been handled carelessly, or had been purposely made to look that way. Wei Wuxian unwrapped it to reveal a flaky pastry, the glaze shining slightly in the faint light. 

Wei Wuxian carefully broke it in half to share with Lan Wangji, but stilled when he saw the pale filling inside. Lotus paste. Where the boys had gotten it, he had no idea, but the scent was real. 

He lifted his half to his lips and took a bite. 

It tasted of happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if I made any mistakes in the geography or timeline of the MDZS canon. I did take some liberties, such as with the Gusu Lan sect Spring Festival celebrations, but I tried to be as canon-compliant as possible.
> 
> Also, to those of you who celebrate it, Happy Lunar New Year!
> 
> Finally, a large thank-you to Toya (https://toya.tumblr.com/) for going on the food adventure with me that inspired this fic! I had a lot of fun writing it. Here's to more food adventures in our future!


End file.
